a spreading of wings, a bating of breath, a sense of something coming

Phase Three

I want to be remarkable for more than most remarks amount.
I want to be honest and raw and found desirable.
I want to shake the world up and, alternatively, tear it to shreds with clear and poignant evidences.

For all the mysterious toxicity, I want — for one brief moment — just to be known.

The positivity wears thin when you come to face the inevitable social shitstorm you’re still in.
I have no god to pray to for any special guidance, and the tangible demons or angles on which I could hinge that faith have all shut down and shed their wings like exoskeletons – dead and useless hinderances that they were.

I wish some guardian might hear me, but the strong and equal compatible companions are all too busy roping themselves to nooses tied to one another.

LIke this, we cannot ever break free, break the mold, break out of the deadly modern monochrome to see any goddamn color.

I wish I could just touch you, feel you, love you, alter you or pray to your alter in ash and smoke. But the possessive spirit lies too deep within and I fear you won’t ever loose that grip.